


I Remember You

by allmystars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Bonfires, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, First Kiss, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Last Kiss, Love Letters, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Summer Vacation, Tragedy, Underage Drinking, Widowed Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmystars/pseuds/allmystars
Summary: Castiel,You smelled like honey and the sea.That’s all I remember, really, from that first time. God, I was so drunk off my ass I’m surprised you didn’t just shove me into the sand. Do you remember that? That night under the stars surrounded by all our closest friends?Sometimes, when I think hard enough—close my eyes and focus on the summer of ’97, the last days of vacation—I can still feel the heat of that bonfire on my lips as I leaned in.Do you remember that? The way it felt?This is how it goes.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 15
Kudos: 68
Collections: Dean/Cas Summer Bucket-List Bingo 2020





	I Remember You

**Author's Note:**

> Why is this sad? Why is everything I write so SAD? Damnit, it wasn't supposed to end like this *sigh*.
> 
> This is from one of those "first time/last time" prompts mixed with @destiel.fanfictions bingo thing (Bonfire), so I guess I just couldn't help myself. It's just a sad prompt, right? It's not my fault, RIGHT??
> 
> Okay, just take this heap of sadness and leave me to try and figure out how to write fluff.

Castiel,

You smelled like honey and the sea.

That’s all I remember, really, from that first time. God, I was so drunk off my ass I’m surprised you didn’t just shove me into the sand. Do you remember that? That night under the stars surrounded by all our closest friends?

Sometimes, when I think hard enough—close my eyes and focus on the summer of ’97, the last days of vacation—I can still feel the heat of that bonfire on my lips as I leaned in.

Do you remember that? The way it felt?

This is how it goes.

It took me six whole weeks to work up the nerve to do it, and still, I chickened out up until that seventh shot of whiskey. I remember you didn’t drink much. You said something about private school, and polished church pews knowing your secrets.

About whispers in the dark, taunting you to sin.

Were those my whispers? My words in your ear?

You were always too good for me, Cas; always too sweet to keep. But holy God, did I want to keep you—always wanted to keep you. I think I told you that, too, between shuddering breaths and thundering heartbeats. I told you how long it’s been since I loved like that—like I love you.

You told me you hadn’t ever loved before. Hadn’t ever _been_ loved before, and it broke my heart. Do you know how often you break my heart? Let me give you a hint.

Every day I’ve known you, and all the hours before that.

But honey and the sea made up for it that night, so close I could taste your skin, and you, my lips. I remember the stars, blinking at us one by one. I remember holding your hand like a lifeline; like if I didn’t, I’d drift off in the sea of your eyes.

God, that’s so cliché, but if it isn’t true, well…

Well, nothing. It is true, because even before that night, as the bonfire died off and our friends crept away to their tents, I felt it. I _knew_ it. I was so lost on you there was no chance of finding my way back. I _am_ lost on you, still. So gone on the blue-eyed guy with the tousled, dark brown hair. You’d tanned over the summer, but you always had that slightly golden hue. I loved that. I told you I loved that.

But do you remember it? The taste of twelve-year-old whiskey stolen from my father’s liquor cabinet? That’s what I drank, anyway, but you tasted like lemon sherbert ice cream and the hot chocolate I tried to make you over the fire when you started to shiver.

I’m sorry, I know it wasn’t very good, but you drank it anyway. I like to think it was for my benefit because you didn't want to hurt my feelings, but you were shivering so hard.

It gets a bit hazy here, I’ll admit, but there’s no way I’ll forget how you leaned into me, your head on my shoulder, hair tickling my chin, and after hours of waiting— _weeks_ , even—I did it.

In the dying glow of the fire, and the ever-growing darkness, I caught your lips with mine, soft and slow and sweet like honey, and you let me.

And that was the first time I kissed you.

My Love,

Do you ever think that maybe we were doomed from the start?

I mean, I hardly remember our first kiss, even years later, but let me make something very clear: it wasn’t a lack of love that tore us apart. Too much love, I'd say—no one is allowed that much love.

The years went by like a walk in the park—slow in the start but passing faster and faster until you find yourself at the end. A decade went by like that.

First love, then marriage. There was no baby, but we bought a carriage.

I remember the way your eyes lit up on that dull, rainy Tuesday. Do remember it the way I do? The weather was barely tip-toeing into spring, still bitingly cold in the dead of night, but the days hinted at warmth. The thaw was coming, and with it, those hot summer nights we’d been yearning for.

I remember getting that phone call and thinking, “Shit, I can’t wait to tell Cas!” because I knew I’d get that look. That smile, like sunshine lives inside you. To this day, I swear it does.

We were adopting a baby.

There it was—that face. The one I’d do anything for. And, suddenly, that drizzly Tuesday morning became my favourite day. In the space between knowing, and telling you, I realized it wasn’t our wedding, or our first kiss, or any moment in between.

It was this; when you learned we’d be parents. _This_ was my favourite moment, and somehow, it stays that way even now. Even after—

I had to work that day, but you… you couldn’t wait. You called your boss, told him you weren’t coming in, and threw on that ratty old trench coat I couldn’t help but love—though I’d never admit it out loud—and ran out the door.

I remember sighing, shaking my head, and waiting by the door for you to dash back. You were so excited, I couldn’t even hold it against you, but I did lean forward, bracing myself on the doorframe with a pucker on my lips when you reached the top step.

It doesn’t even cross my mind an hour later, when there’s word of a fatal accident on the interstate, that somehow you’re involved. I was too busy thinking about the summer time, and how you’d smell like salt water and sand again soon.

You didn’t smell like honey and the sea that morning, but like warm coffee and the cinnamon buns I’d made for breakfast. You smelt like home, and the years we’d built together. You tasted like love—like family, and hope, and happiness. You tasted like forever.

And that was the last time I kissed you.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter at [allmystars_AO3](https://twitter.com/allmystars_AO3)  
> ~  
> Follow me on Tumblr at [allmystars-i](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/allmystars-i)  
> ~  
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